Let's not sugarcoat it: 2016 has been a doozy. And I've been a bit of a wreck. Like, as in last week I couldn't find the exact item that I went to Target, then Costco, then Walmart for....so I went home and face planted on my couch and cried. Nursing school has made me cry more times than I can count and most days I feel deeply exhausted, the kind that literally nothings feels like it can remedy. I am switching between day shifts and night shifts at the hospital for my clinical rotations, which makes me feel crabby and tired all the time. Sometimes I come home so exhilarated and in awe that I get to do what I do and people will actually pay me. Other days I come home, wide-eyed, and feel like I've made a horrible mistake. A sign of a well-adjusted adult, am I right?
For all the reasons this year has been hard (mostly school and a nerve-racking apartment upheaval in the middle of a hellish month, among other things), I also know that I will look back on this year with fondness. As I've gotten older, I've begun to appreciate the nuances of what makes adulthood precious. Every season of my life is amazing and difficult and trying and exhausting all at the same time. My growing pains come in different forms every year, but looking back I am so grateful for all of them.
This August, Eric, Emma and I went to Europe. It took almost two years to plan and save up for. One night, we were talking about going to Iceland and the next, we were sitting on the floor in Barnes and Noble with books and must-do lists sprawled out around us. Emma immediately found the only job she could that would hire a 14 year old at a pizza place. Eric and I scrimped and saved and every so often, we would all have a pow wow to discuss how much money we'd saved, how much more we needed, should we camp? Could we afford to fly to London too? How about Ireland? What's the best car rental company? Etc, etc.
We had spent so much time--so much time--planning and obsessing over our trip that I was afraid it wouldn't live up to our hopes. I mean, when you put so much energy into a big trip, you're going to get your expectations high, right?
Newsflash: it wasn't perfect. Of course it wasn't. Family trips are almost never perfect. We were crammed inside a van, sleeping on the side of the road for nine days in Iceland. Emma needed personal space. Eric was sick of eating freeze dried food every night. I felt like the mom trying to make everyone happy.
One day everyone seemed particularly crabby. We drove for hours and ended up in a little fishing village (which happens to be the second largest "city" in Iceland). We couldn't agree where to park or what to do for dinner and everyone seemed hungry, tired, and bugged with each other. We were standing in this town square, exhausted and not even looking at each other, when I felt a sudden searing pain in my thigh. I looked up and there was this car full of Icelandic teenage boys, one leaning out the window with an airsoft gun pointed right at me. They started laughing and drove away quickly.
Eric was in no mood. Not that day. Before I even registered what had happened, Eric was bolting down the street towards the car. I'm sure they were terrified of this giant Mexican man running towards them in the street. Do you think they'd ever seen a Mexican? Who knows. But I vaguely thought as I watched him running towards this car while everyone in the square watched that this was actually pretty funny and I would laugh at it later, but not right then.
It seemed to lighten up the mood. I don't know why. It was just ridiculous and silly. We went across the street and ate--what else?--Mexican food. It tasted nothing like Mexican but it was delicious. Everything tastes pretty good after four straight meals of freeze dried chili macaroni with beef.
The next day after another long day of driving, we found a remote spot to pull over and sleep the night. We noticed in a crevasse right next to our van a small but deep glacial river. "Hey," I said, "we could really use a morale boost right now. Who wants to jump in this ice cold river in the rain?"
So we did. And then we laughed about it all night while snuggling close together and playing egyptian ratscrew and eating freeze dried beef stroganoff, then fell asleep to the rhythmic rain drops on the van.
Obviously the trip had it's ups and downs. It was ridiculous for me to try and manage everyone's emotions and make the trip as perfect as possible. Sometimes we were cranky, sometimes we were elated. Sometimes we just needed to pull over and take a nap, sometimes we couldn't peel our eyes off the scenery.
And that's OK. The ups and down and peaks and valleys in life are OK. You don't have to prove to anyone that everything is perfect all the time. Even your most fabulous, fun, glittering adventures can have some meh or even crap moments, too.
When I look back on our trip, I can't help but break out into a grin. It wasn't always perfect, but I will never forget the amazing adventures we had, things we saw, people we met, and memories we created. We explored roaring waterfalls from the front, the top, and even the inside. We literally yelled "another one!" every 10 seconds because Iceland is basically one large waterfall. We almost got blown off windy cliffs with views that will make you believe in God. We hiked to hidden natural hot springs for a swim and then realized that sleeping in a van and trying to change out of wet, muddy clothes is the worst. We made a homemade clementine cake, like the one in Walter Mitty, and hauled it all the way to Iceland to ceremoniously eat, only to discover it was disgusting.
One evening we spent in a town called Hofn, which happened to be one of our favorite places. We found the perfect hill overlooking the ocean to perch for the night and went out exploring. The wind was so brutal that it was literally, and I do mean literally, blowing us over. We found cover in a deep trench where we met a german photographer who was also seeking shelter from the wind. We chatted (more like tried to yell over the sound of the wind) while watching a truly stunning sunset. It was simultaneously chaotic and peaceful. I'll never forget that. We finally faced the wind to go back to our van and Emma and I ended up full-on peeing our pants from laughing so hard while trying to hold on to a pole so we wouldn't be whipped off a cliff and into the ocean. We were so terrified that the van would blow away and also, we were uncomfortable in our pee pants, so we left and found a legitimate campsite on lower ground where we could clean up and sleep soundly.
We took a boat ride around a glacial lagoon and Emma fell in love with the Italian tour guide. We found a stunning and charming tiny fishing village at the edge of a fjord with bright colored houses and dozens of waterfalls spilling over the edges of the cliff into the valley. We played with snapchat filters one night in our tiny squished bed until we were crying from laughing so hard. Every night, we would find a place to set up for the night (a waterfall, a grassy hill, a mossy lava field) and would set up our card table and camping chairs, boil our water, shove away our suitcases, get in our jammies, make our bed, serve dinner and get cozy in our makeshift bed. We took a boat ride in the town where the Greenland bar scene in Walter Mitty was filmed and then found the bar and tried to recreate the scene. We ate ham and cheese sandwiches for every lunch in the back of the van and finished it off with Iceland candy and chocolate. On our long driving days, we would put on our warmest and comfiest clothes, crank a Harry Potter audiobook or our Icelandic playlist and weave in and out of fjords and up bumpy mountain passes. One night, we discovered a random soccer field in the middle of nowhere, underneath a glacier, and played a game of soccer with two Icelandic 9-year-old boys. I almost cried it was so fun and memorable and happy, a true Lizzie McGuire "this is what dreams are made of" moment.
Back in Reykjavik, the hip, trendy capitol of Iceland, we got lost and ended up on a random bus going who knows where, sitting next to a wasted middle aged man while trying not to breathe for fear of waking him up. The bus driver didn't even know where we were going. I was sure we'd never see our family--or America--again.
We flew to London to be with our family there and ended up spending most of our time watching the Olympics and eating. We flew to Ireland with our cousin Molly and ate lots of good food, good ice cream, and basically did nothing but chill. We sat in a bar one night and drank Sprite while listening to live folk music and talking about life. On the way back to London, we showed up to the airport 10 minutes before takeoff and ended up bolting towards the plane on the runway while security called the pilot to stop because some idiot Americans were desperate to make their flight. Emma and I saw Wicked one night and cried at the end and then met Molly and Eric for a midnight snack at Shake Shack in Covent Garden.
On our way home from London, we had a quick overnight layover in Reykjavik and decided not to get a hotel, because "sleeping in an airport is an experience you're supposed to have in your twenties." Nope. It's one of those things that simultaneously makes you feel young and also ages you tremendously. We literally slept on a linoleum floor right next to check-in under a bright light next to a bar that was blasting music. I got up sometime around 3, sleepy but uncomfortable, groggy and puffy-eyed, and walked outside to see if I could by some miracle see the northern lights. The odds were unlikely since it was still early in the season, the airport lights were bright, and the sky was cloudy. I leaned against a road barrier, only half awake, pleading with the universe for this one thing I hoped for. Please give me this magical ending to my trip.
I didn't see the northern lights.
I sat outside for a while before giving up and trudging back inside.
Such is life. You win some, you lose some.
For all the reasons this year has been hard (mostly school and a nerve-racking apartment upheaval in the middle of a hellish month, among other things), I also know that I will look back on this year with fondness. As I've gotten older, I've begun to appreciate the nuances of what makes adulthood precious. Every season of my life is amazing and difficult and trying and exhausting all at the same time. My growing pains come in different forms every year, but looking back I am so grateful for all of them.
This August, Eric, Emma and I went to Europe. It took almost two years to plan and save up for. One night, we were talking about going to Iceland and the next, we were sitting on the floor in Barnes and Noble with books and must-do lists sprawled out around us. Emma immediately found the only job she could that would hire a 14 year old at a pizza place. Eric and I scrimped and saved and every so often, we would all have a pow wow to discuss how much money we'd saved, how much more we needed, should we camp? Could we afford to fly to London too? How about Ireland? What's the best car rental company? Etc, etc.
We had spent so much time--so much time--planning and obsessing over our trip that I was afraid it wouldn't live up to our hopes. I mean, when you put so much energy into a big trip, you're going to get your expectations high, right?
One day everyone seemed particularly crabby. We drove for hours and ended up in a little fishing village (which happens to be the second largest "city" in Iceland). We couldn't agree where to park or what to do for dinner and everyone seemed hungry, tired, and bugged with each other. We were standing in this town square, exhausted and not even looking at each other, when I felt a sudden searing pain in my thigh. I looked up and there was this car full of Icelandic teenage boys, one leaning out the window with an airsoft gun pointed right at me. They started laughing and drove away quickly.
Eric was in no mood. Not that day. Before I even registered what had happened, Eric was bolting down the street towards the car. I'm sure they were terrified of this giant Mexican man running towards them in the street. Do you think they'd ever seen a Mexican? Who knows. But I vaguely thought as I watched him running towards this car while everyone in the square watched that this was actually pretty funny and I would laugh at it later, but not right then.
It seemed to lighten up the mood. I don't know why. It was just ridiculous and silly. We went across the street and ate--what else?--Mexican food. It tasted nothing like Mexican but it was delicious. Everything tastes pretty good after four straight meals of freeze dried chili macaroni with beef.
 |
| Honestly, if you're not careful in Iceland, you'll end up like this Chinese family |
 |
| Couldn't pronounce it when it erupted 6 years ago, can't pronounce it now |
One evening we spent in a town called Hofn, which happened to be one of our favorite places. We found the perfect hill overlooking the ocean to perch for the night and went out exploring. The wind was so brutal that it was literally, and I do mean literally, blowing us over. We found cover in a deep trench where we met a german photographer who was also seeking shelter from the wind. We chatted (more like tried to yell over the sound of the wind) while watching a truly stunning sunset. It was simultaneously chaotic and peaceful. I'll never forget that. We finally faced the wind to go back to our van and Emma and I ended up full-on peeing our pants from laughing so hard while trying to hold on to a pole so we wouldn't be whipped off a cliff and into the ocean. We were so terrified that the van would blow away and also, we were uncomfortable in our pee pants, so we left and found a legitimate campsite on lower ground where we could clean up and sleep soundly.
 |
| The bar in Walter Mitty. Now it's a boutique. |
Back in Reykjavik, the hip, trendy capitol of Iceland, we got lost and ended up on a random bus going who knows where, sitting next to a wasted middle aged man while trying not to breathe for fear of waking him up. The bus driver didn't even know where we were going. I was sure we'd never see our family--or America--again.
 |
| Sometimes life is like eating mussels: yucky |
We flew to London to be with our family there and ended up spending most of our time watching the Olympics and eating. We flew to Ireland with our cousin Molly and ate lots of good food, good ice cream, and basically did nothing but chill. We sat in a bar one night and drank Sprite while listening to live folk music and talking about life. On the way back to London, we showed up to the airport 10 minutes before takeoff and ended up bolting towards the plane on the runway while security called the pilot to stop because some idiot Americans were desperate to make their flight. Emma and I saw Wicked one night and cried at the end and then met Molly and Eric for a midnight snack at Shake Shack in Covent Garden.
On our way home from London, we had a quick overnight layover in Reykjavik and decided not to get a hotel, because "sleeping in an airport is an experience you're supposed to have in your twenties." Nope. It's one of those things that simultaneously makes you feel young and also ages you tremendously. We literally slept on a linoleum floor right next to check-in under a bright light next to a bar that was blasting music. I got up sometime around 3, sleepy but uncomfortable, groggy and puffy-eyed, and walked outside to see if I could by some miracle see the northern lights. The odds were unlikely since it was still early in the season, the airport lights were bright, and the sky was cloudy. I leaned against a road barrier, only half awake, pleading with the universe for this one thing I hoped for. Please give me this magical ending to my trip.
I didn't see the northern lights.
I sat outside for a while before giving up and trudging back inside.
Such is life. You win some, you lose some.
